


Tidbits 4 by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [4]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fourth collection of paragraphs, poems, one-liners, and other pieces of slashy Sentinel stuff, by various authors. Features various parodies of UPN promos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tidbits 4 by Many and Varied

Disclaimer: Let's see...none of these characters belong to any of us. They belong to Pet Fly and Paramount and other people. No harm is intended and no money is being made here. That should cover it, right? No Plots for the most part...nothing but quickies. (Pun intended) 

Warning: Rated NC-17 for nudity, sexual content, language and adult situations. 

## Senad Tidbits

Bits,pieces, and parts of thoughts and drools posted to the senad mailing list  
by various authors

* * *

  
Tidbit #1

Subject Header: Dear TPTB

Ann wrote, and thus inspired me:

>Jim lets Blair know (gently, with a smile) that while it's not a condition of  
>his staying, Jim would be pleased if they shared a bed.... And the music comes  
>up, and the lighting changes, and Blair and Jim lean closer, and closer, and as  
>their lips touch....

>Commercial Break!

>Next Week on The Sentinel -- we blow up more stuff!

>Brought to you by Ford, makers of Macho Trucks, and the gay men who drive them.

That did it, Ann. :) 

Dear TPTB, 

$$Yes, I am a member of SENAD. Before you people get all homophobic on me, I would advise you to note that this may save you $$MONEY!$$ 

Ok, now that I have your undivided attention, I'd like to make an observation. I've noticed that TPTB at Pet Fly productions spend an incredible amount of money on the television series _The Sentinel_ for the sole purpose of transferring their adolescent sexual fantasies to the screen -- while at the same time attempting in vain to deny the true nature of these fantasies, i.e: the homosexual nature -- by using clichéd metaphors that are easily recognized by what the Blair Sandburg character might term 'popular American culture.' 

I am, of course, referring to Big Guns, Fast Trucks and Massive Explosions. You may not 'get it,' TPTB, but guess what? We, at SENAD, don't need enhanced senses to see the *real* picture here! By using Big Guns, you are *obviously* clueing viewers into the fact that our boys, James Ellison and Blair Sandburg, are more than adequately endowed in their genital regions. Well, Thank You! We knew that! The Fast, Macho Trucks are yet another obvious metaphor for the guys' sexual habits. Sexually speaking, Jim knows just when to ease off on Blair's clutch, when to pick up speed, slow down, put it in forward, reverse, or just cruise along. Blair knows how to handle Jim's Big Rig and although the anthropologist may think he has us fooled, we see the way Blair has learned to take those curves. 

As for the Massive Explosions, you didn't think you could 'slip' that past us, did you TPTB? Come on. I mean *come* on. Our men are always ready for the next mind numbing orgasm and when it hits, the walls shake and unidentified things fall from the sky. Plastique has nothing on these guys! 

So, what's my point, you may ask? Before you get all hot and bothered, I'm certainly not asking for an elimination of these sexual metaphors. Boys, after all, will be boys, and we *like* them that way. However, I am suggesting that you dispense with a car crash here, a few bullets there, and maybe keep a building or two intact. You could SAVE A HELL OF A LOT OF $$MONEY$$ and *easily* make up the action scenes by doing what we all want and GETTING JIM AND BLAIR IN THE SACK!!! Think of the amount of cheap screen time you could get just on the amount of lube that could be purchased for the price of *just one car!* I'm seeing a few more profitable seasons here. 

Thank you for considering this heartfelt proposition.  
  
  
\--A Senner  
  


* * *

Tidbit #2

Subject Header: Dear TPTB (redux)

As usual, I can't keep my fingers out of the pie. --Debra

Dear Diane and SENAD: 

Thank you for your interest in our show. We appreciate that you enjoy watching _The Sentinel_ (Wednesdays on UPN; we're the network, baby), as well as your comments suggesting how we could save money by buying "lube, not trucks," as it were, "butter, not guns." 

However, we feel it is our responsibility, nay, duty, as television producers to provide our viewers with a *fantasy* outlet. *You* know and *we* know that the guns, the explosions, the tense looks... well, it's all what the deconstructionists call "coded" sexuality. Nevertheless, _The Sentinel_ is a fantasy cop show, set in a fantasy town, Cascade, in which two single men share a tastefully appointed, french door-enriched loft over a bakery, and yet still, apparently, despite the other phsyical manifestations of their mutual affection, don't so much as kiss. 

The reason for this is simple: the fanfic. Oh, yes, we know all about the fanfic. We read it, savor it, and enjoy it. Some of us, through carefully routed email addresses, write it. We know that we could not hope, especially on national television, to come up with anything like what we read in the archive. We fear that, should Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison even kiss on the show, you might lose your inspiration. What's more, if we didn't have to cast "beard babes" on a weekly basis, our dating pool would dry right up. 

So keep writing, all. Leave the explosions and car chases to us, and you can have the lube, the cuffs (well, we need them, too, but we can work out a time-share deal), the feathers, the velvet gloves, the silver-backed hairbrushes, the leathers, the seemingly endless supply of Cascade gay bars, the trips to Vegas, the secret sexual histories. 

Sincerely, 

TBTB  
Not that you can prove it's us, mind....  
  


* * *

Tidbit #3

A few days ago Saraid - after she'd gotten us Sammies mixed up - mused:

'saraid, wondering if two sammies make a samuel'

To which I now - belatedly - reply: You mean like this...?

SAMS GALORE  
by Sammy  
  


Jim hears the voices even before he enters the building - three of them, arguing wildly. He jogs upstairs, and the voices get louder. Yep, coming from the loft, one of them definitely Sandburg, the other two... female? *Two* women?! Geez, what did the kid talk himself into this time...? Shaking his head, he steps inside. 

When Blair hears the door being opened, he spins around. "Jim!" he cries out, his voice sounding partly reliefed, partly surprised and a little embarrassed. "Man, I'm just *so* glad you're here! You know..." 

He risks a quick glance over his shoulder as the arguing gets louder. By now the ladies seem to be ready to rip each other's throats out, and it makes Jim wonder what his roommate has done to make them this mad. He motions for Sandburg to get closer. "Who are they, and what are they doing here?!" 

"Uhm, they're... eh... fans." 

"Fans?!" Jim repeats, raising an eyebrow, but before he can say anything more, Blair stops him with a raised hand and continues hurriedly. 

"I know this sounds weird, man, but those girls say they know us, and read about us, and fantasize about us, and they most definitely want to have sex with us." He stares at Jim with wide and eager puppy eyes, who stares back at him blankly for a few seconds. 

"They read about us?" Jim finally repeats the really puzzling part. Blair buries his face in his hands with a groan, shaking his head at such blatant ignorance of the important facts. "Were the heck do they *read* about us?!" 

"Well, this is the part were it gets a little weird..." Blair shrugs, ignoring the painfilled expression his partner always gets whenever Sandburg chooses to describe something as 'a little weird'. "I don't understand everything they talked about, but obviously they're on this mailing list..." 

"A *mailing list*?!!" 

"... dedicated to us and our actions. I know, man, this really sounds way over the top, but when they followed me from the University..." 

"Hang on a second, I think I'm going to have a seizure. They did *what*?" 

"Hey, Jim, I think they're mostly harmless, man." Blair explaines quietly, trying to keep his partner calm. "They just *really* want to have sex with us!" 

This time Jim's mind does the trick and gets the picture, but instead of bouncing up and down excitedly like Sandburg obviously wants to, he just frowns at the anthropologist. "Didn't you tell them?" he finally asks. "About us, I mean?" 

Blair gets serious. "Yeah, I did. And as weird as it sounds - they *still* want to do the wild thing." The frown deepens. "Us being a couple doesn't bother them. In fact, *that's* what this mailing list is about! I checked it out, man, and you wouldn't *believe* some of the stuff..." His thoughts drift off as he remembers one particularly hot story that still makes his skin crawl with pleasure, even after five times of reading it. 

Jim stares at the clouding eyes of his lover and shakes his head with a sigh. 

At this point the voices of the women get louder, more aggressive, as they really start shouting at each other. "Dammit, *I'm* longer on this list!" one of them yells. 

"Yeah, but I could do *so* much more with them..." the other one promptly quips. 

Jim sighs again. "Sandburg, we have to stop this before it turns into something ugly..." 

But it's too late for that. Ellison hasn't even finished his sentence when one of the girls suddenly lunges forward, grabbing the other by the shirt. The sound of tearing cloth, then a surprised shriek. A slap in the face, followed by a howl of indignation, then the girls go down fighting. 

Ellison and Sandburg stare at each other, then look back at the women - or, more precisely, at the couch behind which the girls are rolling around, trying to scratch each other's eyes out. Shreds of clothing, hairs and long undisturbed dust bunnies fly high, and the men move quickly to prevent permanent damage. 

But before they reach the girls, something happens - a strange light, a silent explosion, the combined energy of their fury producing a blinding flash of light that makes Jim and Blair cringe with its intensity. "What the...?" Jim murmurs, then steps around the couch - only to stop dead in mid-movement as he peers over the edge. "Oh boy." 

"What?" Blair asks, but receives no answer - Jim just continues staring. "What is it?!" 

There's movement behind the couch, and Blair turns his head to see not two women emerge, but... a young man?! Well-muscled, with shoulder-length, dark hair, more ore less shredded jeans and t-shirt, and a cute expression of confusion crossing his handsome features. 

"I... uh..." he begins, but stops at hearing his own voice. Then he notices something else and looks down his body. His eyes go wide and even wider as his hands glide over his smooth chest, utter shock and confusion written on his face. 

Jim and Blair have noticed it, too. Now they both exchange a long, thoughtful glance to find they're both intrigued - and both thinking the same thing. They turn back to the irritated guy, and a wide grin shows on both their faces when Blair says: "Now *that's* what I call possibilities..." 

Sammy  
  


* * *

To which, Debra replied: I'm the new kid in the yard, but I wanna play! >>  
  


Jim heard his lover's key in the lock, felt himself tighten with anticipation. 

"Lover?" Blair's voice called out into the bright stillness of the loft. 

"Upstairs," Jim called down. 

"Stay there," Blair ordered with barely muted excitement. 

"What is it, honey?" 

"I've got someone I want you to meet..." 

Jim swallowed. He was adventurous as the next guy, but he always figured someone as New Age and touchy-feely as Sandburg would want to go through endless negotiations and discussions before introducing a third party to their bed... 

Blair's head poked up at the top of the stairs. 

"Don't worry, babe," he said breezily. "You'll love Samuel." 

"Samuel?" Jim croaked. 

"Sammy for short," Blair said, then giggled. "Not that he is... see for yourself." 

Jim's eyes bugged like Daffy Duck's when he saw the size of the dildo Blair was holding aloft with pride and joy. Jim swallowed, then reached for his fly with one hand and the bedside lube with the other. "Helloooooo, Sammy," he cooed. And then the fun really began.... 

Debra  
  


* * *

When Sammy replied with: "So, a Sammy's just a 'prosthetic'?! (snicker)"; Debra took up the keyboard again: >>  
  


"Please," Blair says with quiet dignity. "Don't be so reductive. He's more than a prosthetic. Not quite a friend or a pet, but if there's ever a fire, Sammy gets saved *before* the photo album." 

"Chief," grunts Jim from the bed, "if there's ever a fire, Sammy gets saved before *you* do." 

Blair's eyes narrow. "I think someone is forgetting which side his bread is buttered on," he says thoughtfully, and reaches for the same bag Sammy just came out of.... 

Debra  
  


* * *

Tidbit #4

yes, somebody dies.

 

The blue Ford Explorer squealed into the parking lot with the stench of burning rubber. Flinging open the door Detective Jime Ellsison threw himself out of the cab and practically flew acorss what was left of the street, to grab the tall black man who was only now regaining his feet. Chunks of concrete and pieces if twisted steel littered the gorund around him. 

His ears filed with the sound of sirens, Ellison had to stop and close his eyes, hands clapped to his head until he got his senses back under control. Freed from his grasp, Simon gained his footing and leaned against what was left of his car, gasping for breath. 

"WHERE'S SANDBURG?! Jim screamed at him, unable to hear his own voice. Simon shook his head and turned away, not wanting to see his friend's face. 

Ambulances, firetrucks, emergency vehicles filled the warped pavement, people pouring from them and swarming the rubble that had seconds before been the Cascade Police Department. 

"Jim, calm down." Simon squeezed his shoulder tightly, getting his attention. "I think he made it to the lobby. There may have been survivors..." 

"Oh my god!" the shout from a firefighter drew their attention briefly. "The lobby fell into the parking garage! It's underground now! What could have done this?!" 

Fighting to breathe, Jim realized that he was shutting down. His senses were fading, his vision going black... 

"I told him to stay and do the paperwork, Simon. I wouldn't let him come with me...." even his voice was going. He was the Cheshire Cat, trapped in a nightmare version of Wonderland..."Oh, *God*, BLAIR!!" he howled, unaware of Simon gesturing frantically to an EMT, who came over and sank a needle into a bulging bicep... 

The last Simon saw of his friend was his feet as he was straped to a gurney and loaded into an ambulance, eyes blank and dead-looking, body still as death. 

He shook his head again, and turned back to survey the scene. 

*Damn*, He'd warned him. They all had. 

"Stay away from Samantha, Sandburg. She's got it in for you." 

But the kid just wouldn't listen. The card he had left on her desk had been the last straw and now dozens of people were going to pay for his infatuation...it had taken an explosion that rivaled Oklahoma City, but Samantha had finally gotten Blair Sandburg out of her life. 

(the end. thanks, merry, i feel better now :) 

(note: this is in no way meant to belittle the OKC tragedy) 

saraid  
  


* * *

Tidbit #5

In response to RL, where grad students are now going to have pay taxes on tuition waivers, the following was written...  
  
OBSENAD:  
  
(slamming door) 

"Hey, Chief! Watch it with the slamming. That hurt." 

"Aw, man. I'm sorry. I'm just so pissed!" 

"What's up?" 

"The payroll office at school called today. Seems that thanks to some stupid change in the tax code, I now owe a bunch more taxes." 

"Did you try to cheat on your taxes Chief?" 

"No way man! I guess my tuition waiver is supposed to be taxed or something." 

"So what's the bottom line?" 

"I get a $200 per month pay CUT, man." 

"That's awful, Chief!" 

"I don't know how I'm going to be able pay all my bills..." 

"C'mere Chief. I won't let anything happen to you. I'll take care of everything."  
  
(snuggling sounds)  
  


"Promise, Jim?" 

"I promise."  
  
(kissing sounds)  
  


Noel Goddard  
  


* * *

Tidbit #6

Urp. Now, I'm as open-minded as a body can be, here in the South. I'd even like to get a Celtic tattoo one of those days....But body piercing? Even worse, piercing south of the border? Excuse me while I try to erase the image of Jim crossing his legs at that..  
  


"You want to do what?!" 

"Have a Prince Albert, man. A girl told me all about it, and man, does it sounds like fun!" 

"Ok. I wasn't even around when you decided to do your left nipple, but piercing your scrotum--I'll tie you to the bed if you try that!" 

"Really? Why don't you do THAT every time I mention having a Prince Albert?" 

"Ah...well, guess could live with that. Come here!" 

"OH! If I'd known suggesting I'd get a Prince Albert would cause you to do that, I'd have suggested it a lot earlier!" 

"Shut up, Blair." 

"Lower, lower, Jim! 

*sound of Blair being gagged*" 

"There. No more mentioning Prince Albert!" 

*sounds of lovemaking ensue* 

LS  
  


* * *

Tidbit #7

(In response to MegaRed's Nickname challenge:)

MegaRed, you are like the crystal of salt dropped into a supersaturated solution. Only instead of beautiful crystals, we get this: ("It's not my fault," Regina wailed.")  
  


Sometimes You Feel Like a Nut... 

Jim poured the honey all over the writhing man's cock and Blair wailed as he leaned over and slurped it up. He then flipped his partner over and, using the honey on himself, plunged into him in one driving thrust. He began a relentless rhythm, designed to drive Blair out of his mind. "Oh, yes, do me. Oh, Jim, please, harder," Blair cried as his lover pounded into him. "Oh God, I can't take much more; you're driving me insane." Jim only redoubled his efforts until Blair screamed, "Oh, My honey-roasted hunk of man-flesh, yesssss!!!." Jim grinned; he had succeeded.  
  


I deeply apologise to Mr. Peanut who I'm sure is a fine fellow. 

Cheers- 

Regina  
  


* * *

Tidbit #8

>MonaR tells me that whining is an acceptable form of communication.  
>Now if you want to hear real whining, if we don't hear something from  
>"Can't go home again", "Sounds of Silence", or "All you need is a cape,  
>Ellison", it will get serious.  


So you think we would have to do something like that below to get a next part of the ongoing stories? 

Manuela  
  
  


[Scenery... in the loft] 

"Oh, man!" Blair exclaimed, sitting in front of his laptop. 

Jim looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "What is it?" 

"Nothing important, Jim" Blair answered, slightly blushing. 

Now Jim was curious. Sandburg was blushing because he only *read* something? 

"Spill it, Sandburg!" 

The young man sighed. "You know I lately subscribed to a mailing list were they were talking about Sentinels, a list for adults." Jim frowned. "Yeah, I know - how do they know about Sentinels? That's what I was curious too. It turned out that they were discussion TV episodes of a series about a Sentinel and his young Guide. It got totally weird, because it somehow seemed they were talking about *us*." 

"What?" Jim put his newspaper away and walked over to Blair who continued his explanation. 

"But it gets weirder. There's another related mailinglists were those people posted stories about us." 

"About our cases?" 

"Not entirely." Jim was now standing behind Blair and looked at the screen. "This story 'All you need is a cape, Ellison' is supposed to have happened after the Quinn case. You know, after I got shot." 

"And what's so weird for you about it?" 

"Well, Jim..." the young man hesitated "they know." 

"Know what?" 

"That we have a sexual relationship." 

Jim looked stunned. 

"She tells all. When we've been to San Francisco afterwards, you going to the mass... everything. But there are more stories. This latest I read is a sequel to an earlier story of the same woman. It's set in the middle ages at a court called Senad, like the discussion list, where I just have been crowned King and you are my Blessed Protector. A lot of the folks from this list appear there as members of the court." 

"Really? Can I read this?" Jim sat down and looked at the mentioned story. 

Minutes of akward silence passed, then Ellison looked up from the screen again. "It's actually quite sweet. I wonder if you'll get married there." 

Now it was Blair who was stunned. "You're serious? You're not angry?" 

"Why should I? Those people describe our relationship really well. All those problems we had - they're really good at it. Can I look at some of the other stories?" 

"Sure! I'll go and make some coffee." Blair got up and went to the kitchen. 

Standing in the kitchen, Blair watched Jim reading. The young man hadn't thought that Jim would accept that so easily. When the coffee was ready, Blair poured two cups and went back to the table. 

"Now what do you think of the other stories?" 

"I'm not disappointed. This one, 'Memories Regained' - we both suffer from amnesia after a plane crash in Peru. We didn't have a sexual relationship then. We are back at the tribe were I was years ago when my senses awakened. The elder has told me that the Sentinel claims his Guide as his mate. We made love in the rainforest and you're totally confused afterwards because I screamed your name at my climax." 

"You always do that." 

"I know." Jim smiled. "But there I didn't even know my own name and you neither knew yours. It's a total amnesia. We are reduced to being Sentinel and Guide. That's all." 

"Oh." 

"And in this stories series 'Sounds of Silence' you got deaf after an accident. We both learned signing and I had lots of useful technical stuff installed. And you and Naomi parted on bad terms because she made you decide between her and me. And I was on a bad guilt trip at first because it seemed as if I cause the accident." 

"So you like these stories." 

"Yes, they're really good. I hope they post more parts soon." 

"Me too."  
  


* * *

Tidbit #9

In response to Megared's nickname challenge...>>

that's right. just keep making challenges. i'll never finish or post anything ever again and the editor will kill me...  
  


Little Green Love  
  
  


Blair was watching Jim. 

Jim was watching Blair watch him, and he knew that Blair hadn't noticed Jim watching him watch. 

The basketball game was almost over. With a forced sigh at the imminent loss Jim leaned back and stretched, arms going over the back of the sofa, head back, neck exposed, tendons temporarily sculpting across his bare chest and shoulders. 

He relaxed suddenly and glanced from beneath half-closed eyelids at his lover, at the table, working industriously on a lecture. 

Yeah. There it was again. The tip of Blair's tongue, running a little circle around his slightly parted lips as he dropped his eyes back to the screen in front of him. 

Ducking his head to hide an evil grin, Jim stood and stretched again, making this one an academy-award nomination performance. He felt his erect cock press against the fly of his jeans and made sure to lean far enough backwards to get it fully outlined beneath the worn fabric. 

This time he kept his eyes on Blair. He knew him so well...he wasn't dissapointed when Blair's eyes trained on that long bulge and that tongue slipped out again, this time retreating with a roll of pressed lips and then repeating the motion. 

It was fun to walk to the fridge like this. The jeans were tight enough to feel good rubbing over his arousal, and he positioned himself carefully as he bent to pretend digging in the back of the appliance. The indrawn breath behind him was sweet reward, and he turned slowly, beer in hand, knowing that Blair's eyes would be on him again. 

Those pools of blue swept over him, and that tongue played a little game with itself, drawing Jim's attention. 

Out with the tip...and around, once. Then back in and out a couple of times, then pressed to the full lower lip, twitching like Jim's cock was as it, too, noticed the hungry, flickering movements. 

Jim blinked to break the spell and avoid a zone, and raised his eyes the few inches needed to meet Blair's, knowing that his own were as hot and full of promise as the younger man's. 

When Jim spoke his voice was thick and husky. 

"You ready to come to bed, Lizard?"  
  


saraid  
  


* * *

Tidbit #10

UPN Promo Pitch #1

Perhaps the promos should be re-written to reflect the significant demographic. How's this? 

J: "Hey Chief, you know what day it is?" 

B: "Er, Wednesday?" 

J: "Nope." 

B: "My turn to cook the Spagetti?" 

J: "Nah-uh." 

B: (hopefully) "My night on top?" 

J: "You wish. It's 'Hump Day'!" 

B: "Oh...*YOU'RE* night on top. So, what else is new?" 

VO: EVERYDAY is 'Hump Day', on The Sentinel  
  
Moniker  
  


* * *

Tidbit #11

UPN Promo Pitch No. 2

NyQuil Ad rework (in line with popular demographic):

VO: They call him The Sentinel, because he uses his heightened senses to fight crime. But you can just call him... 

>   
>  THE  
>  NIGHT-TIME
> 
> KISSING
> 
> SUCKING
> 
> FISTING
> 
> BUTT FUCKING
> 
> DO AS YOU'RE  
>  TOLD...
> 
> SO YOU CAN  
>  ROLL OVER  
>  CHIEF
> 
> Kinda cop.  
> 

Moniker

* * *

Tidbit #12

UPN Promo Pitch No. 3

How's this one...

VO: For a detective like James Ellison, police work is HARD WORK. 

(We pan up the stairs in the Loft) 

VO: It requires long hours. There are no perks. No glamor. 

(We pan up from the foot of the bed to reveal a large lump under the bedclothes. There are sounds of heaving and groaning \-- sighing and moaning.) 

VO: We're talking one thrust after another. 

(A close-cropped head emerges from the blankets. James Ellison gazes deeply into the eyes of his flush-faced, tousle-haired lover.) 

(Jim whispers...) 

JIM: "We're the network, Baby." 

BLAIR: "Oh, Jim. I *LOVE* it when you call me 'Baby'"  
  
Moniker  
  


* * *

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